


Julian and the Lizard Prince

by Runavik



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, THIS FIC HAS EVERYTHING:, Talking Animals, Vulnerability, Who's the old bastard who cursed Garak? Doesn't say in the fic but it sure is fecking Enabran Tain, a sassy Garak, a skeptical Miles, alternative universe, and healthy interpersonal boundaries, inspired by a tumblr post, the rule of three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runavik/pseuds/Runavik
Summary: Julian was walking along the woods by his house when he came across a plain and simple lizard. Well, it seemed like a plain and simple lizard…until it opened its mouth and spoke. Now Julian needs to help the lizard turn back into a man again so he can become a prince…or an heir… or a craftsman…  Every time the lizard tells him why he got turned into a lizard in the first place, the story changes! Maybe Julian will eventually get the truth from the lizard, with a little help from his friends.A retelling of The Princess and the Frog. Inspired by a tumblr post prompt.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 20
Kudos: 65





	Julian and the Lizard Prince

**Author's Note:**

> A retelling of The Princess and the Frog, inspired by a tumblr post of open Garak & Bashir ideas. It starts with a ‘Princess and the Frog AU where instead of a prince, Julian gets a grumpy middle-aged man’. I can’t remember/find the OP, so if anyone can point me in the right direction, I’d love to give them credit for planting the seed! 
> 
> I had a blast writing with children’s fairytale vibes. Cutesy, sugary fluff! Even when the fluff was meant to be, like 500 words, then spiraled into this six-thousand word long thing.

Most days Julian wandered in the woods by his house, he found something interesting.

Sometimes it was an oddly shaped stone. Sometimes it was a bug he hadn’t seen before. Sometimes he saw the tail or hoof of a great, big beast before it wandered away. Those were exciting and special days.

Sometimes, however, he didn’t find anything. The woods were still beautiful and pleasant, though, so on those days he would shrug and go back home, excited and hopeful that he would come across something interesting the next day.

It was a particularly sunny day when he happened by the creek and saw a strange lizard sunning on a large rock. _That_ was something interesting that he’d never seen before. The lizard was gray and blue, and looked content as could be as it soaked up the sun’s warm rays.

Julian was curious, as was common for young men of his age, and found himself creeping closer to get a better look at the lizard. It wasn’t particularly large or small, but its coloring and tail were unique.

He was quite close to the lizard when it opened its eyes and fixed its gaze on him.

“Hello there. Are you going to introduce yourself?”

Julian nearly fell back on the seat of his pants, but collected himself rather quickly. “You talk! Are you a magic lizard?” he asked, then paused for a moment. “Are you going to bite me?” he asked, politely.

One should, after all, be polite whenever dealing with something that might be magic.

“Certainly not!” the lizard blinked quickly, offended. “I am a plain and simple lizard. I do not _bite_ people.”

“Oh, okay.” Julian said, quite relieved he would not be bitten. “I’m Julian, by the way. If you want, I can leave you alone to sun on your rock-” he began to stand.

“No! Wait!” the lizard called quickly, before Julian could walk away. “What if… said I were not actually a regular lizard?

"Oh?" Julian asked, intrigued. He had, after all, always been interested in magic and adventure. “Is that true?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the lizard answered. He pattered around so he was facing Julian. “I’m an enchanted lizard.”

“What does that mean?” Julian asked. “Do you grant wishes?”

Julian had never heard of a wish-granting lizard before. Mice, and birds, and even lamps, yes, but not a lizard. Still, he supposed there was a first time for everything.

The lizard shook its head back and forth slowly. “No. I’m a man who has been enchanted _into_ a lizard.”

“I’m rather sorry to hear that,” Julian put on an empathetic frown and expressed his sympathy, just like he’d been taught as a child. The lizard blinked with amusement.

“Really? How do you know I didn’t deserve it?”

“Did you?”

“No,” the lizard admitted. “In fact, it was quite a cruel injustice to be committed against me.” He settled against the warm surface of the rock, as if that was the end of his explanation. To Julian, it rather seemed like the lizard _wanted_ to be prompted to tell more. He tried to wait it out, but found himself overcome with curiosity after several minutes.

“What happened to you?”

“I was a handsome prince,” the lizard began, clearly pleased to be asked. “I was beloved by my entire kingdom. I was being prepared for the throne, and given purview over a host of domestic challenges. Under my decision-making, there was a great alleviation of social ills. Hunger, disease, illness—all became virtually unheard of.

And of course,” he continued, “I was treasured throughout the land for my loyalty to my people. The combination of my subjects’ love and infatuation was, I’m afraid, enough to inflate my ego a little, as I’m sure it would for everyone. A young mage thought to teach me a lesson, and turned me into a lizard. A rather disproportionate reaction to a minor sin of vanity, I feel.”

Julian sat, enraptured, through the incredible story. He was finally broken from his reverie when the lizard spoke again.

“So, now that you know, will you help me break the spell?”

If Julian had been turned into a lizard—which thank goodness he hadn’t—he was sure that would have been the first thing he’d say to anyone who crossed his path. As it was, the lizard in front of him asked casually, as if he couldn’t be bothered one way or another.

“What would I have to do?” Julian asked. He’d always considered himself a fellow who tried to help people however he could, but the old stories made breaking curses out to be a rather messy business. He wanted to know what he was getting into before promising anything.

“Not much. Just kiss me.”

“Ah. I see,” Julian blushed. He didn’t have a problem with kissing—in fact, he rather liked it most of the time—but people in the village didn’t talk about it so casually. “Does it have to be at any particular time or place? Under a full moon, or something?”

“No, any time, any place,” the lizard said. “We can kiss now, if you’re so inclined.”

“Well, I _would_ rather like to know you a little better before kissing you,” Julian pursed his lips. “You say that it’s just a kiss, but plenty of the old fairy tales are filled with stories about things being not as simple as they first seem. It’s just as likely that I have to like you, or be your friend, in order for the kiss to break the spell.”

“If that’s your only condition, I have no qualms with that,” the lizard agreed amiably. “I do enjoy making new friends whenever I can. Shall I see you tomorrow, then?”

“I promise!” Julian agreed,

“Excellent,” the lizard concluded. “When you turn me into a prince, I’ll be dressed in the finest silk shining so brightly, it’s as if it glimmers.”

Julian spent the rest of the day wandering the woods, pretending he was exploring an unchartered frontier. But no rocks, insects, or tracks he found sparked his interest nearly as much as that sly lizard on the rock.

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The next day rained through the morning, and by the time Julian made it to the creek’s swollen banks, he worried that the enchanted lizard would be gone, hidden warm in a burrow somewhere.

Instead, the lizard was on the same rock, looking just as unruffled as before, if shivering slightly.

“I’m glad you came, Julian,” he greeted the young man.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Julian responded. At second glance, the lizard seemed a little paler than the previous day. Without another thought, Julian pulled off one of his gloves and set it on the rock. “Here, for warmth.”

“How kind. What a _thoughtful_ young man you are,” the lizard said, a faint rumble radiating from his chest. As soon as Julian withdrew his hand, the lizard poked his nose in the glove, inspecting. It was that motion that assured Julian that this lizard had been a man at some point in his past; one rarely encounters regular lizards that care about the interior quality of gloves, after all.

The glove apparently meeting his approval, the lizard scurried in, rounding abut and poking his head out of the opening.

“Delightful. Now, you wanted to talk more, today? Or shall we progress to the kiss?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk about what you said yesterday.” Julian shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “About you being a prince.”

“Certainly. Gratitude from an entire nation.”

“Yes, about that,” Julian debated how to say what he’d decided needed to be said. It was still the case, after all, that the enchantment on the lizard was of the magical sort. One should never forgo politeness in the face of magic, even when one is fairly sure that the magic isn’t contagious. He ultimately decided to be straightforward.

“I was doing some light reading. You know, history of the realm, and whatnot. And it occurred to me that none of the royal families of this or the surrounding kingdoms have had sons in the past three generations. One family has a proud heritage of adoption, while the others all seem to have gotten on the wrong side of a mage who wanted to teach several lessons about the inherent value of women.”

“Fascinating. What an _intelligent_ young man you are,” the lizard blinked appreciatively. “Reading is such a lost art, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’ve always enjoyed it,” Julian responded. Another amused blink from the lizard, and he realized he hadn’t continued on to his point. “So, if there haven’t been any princes for generations around here, how could you be an enchanted prince?”

“A good question,” the lizard said, “I admit I found myself getting carried away as I regaled you with my past, so perhaps it is for the best if I set the record straight now.”

“Yes, perhaps it is,” said Julian, thinking he should be not at all pleased to have been lied to, but rather intrigued by the casualness with which the lizard revealed his duplicity.

He waited for the lizard to readjust himself in the glove, after which he began.

“I am the youngest son of a small family from the mountains,” he explained. “We were a large family. Large, poor, but oh so happy together. What little we had, we shared with love amongst ourselves. Whenever one of my parents or siblings had to leave for town or for a job, the rest of us would wait with eager anticipation for them to return home.”

He blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears. “We would save every penny, every sack of grain, every pinch of sugar for their return. When they would finally come through our front gate, we would be filled with such joy that we would gather all our coins, all our stockpiles, and have a grant feast to welcome them home. A bitter witch was jealous of our family, and so turned me into a lizard and cast me far from home.”

“That’s terrible,” Julian said, for it was. He could understand why the lizard was reluctant to share something so personal and heart wrenching to a man he had just met. Even if the man in question had the power to help turn him back to his normal form.

“Then you are inclined to play a part in breaking the spell?” The lizard asked. “Even if affection is a required emotion, I wouldn’t be surprised if pity does the trick. It’s a rather potent sentiment unto itself.”

“Maybe not today,” Julian said with a frown, a little less polite than he meant to be. “I mean, a kiss is a kiss. I’d hate to ruin your big transformation back with the inkling in the back of your head that it might be a pity kiss.”

“Delightful,” the lizard agreed. “When you turn me into my regular body, I’ll be able to return to my mother and father. They’ll be so pleased to have me back, they’ll make a feast so grand that you’ll eat for days.”

Julian nodded. “I’ll see you here tomorrow?”

“My dear, it is far too bright, too cold, and too dreary for me to go anywhere else,” the lizard said rather more matter-of-factly than the words deserved.

Julian didn’t explore the woods for as long he normally did that rainy, chilly day. He remembered something about a story he heard when he was a young lad, a tale about a boy who called ‘wolf!’, and suddenly decided he didn’t want to be alone in the woods when night fell.

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“Hello there,” Julian greeted the lizard the following day. He’d had his breakfast, tidied up his cottage, and headed to the woods all before the sun had risen above the trees. Nothing incentivizes that which must get done than the prospect of fun afterwards. “I have a question for you.”

“I suspected as much,” the lizard responded without guile. While Julian knew that lizards’ capacities to smile or frown were severely limited, he thought he detected a wry smile behind the words. “What’s on your mind, my dear lad?”

“Your family,” Julian said, “how many were there in your family?”

“Eight of us. Nine of us, if you include our dear grandmother.”

“What are their names?”

“My father was Enabran, my mother Mila. Then there were my siblings, Nador, Broca, Benil, Asha, Evek, Surjak, Kovat, and Turrel.”

“That’s only eight names.”

“Ah, yes. And sweet grandmother Tora.”

“I see,” Julian nodded. He waited a minute, watched the sun filter through the leaves of the trees. “What were their names again? Alphabetically, I mean?”

The lizard cocked its head to the side in a way that was decidedly displeased.

“It appears I’ve been caught in a trap of my own making,” he huffed. “I suppose that means you’d like the truth.”

“If you don’t mind.” Julian made himself comfortable on a rock next to the lizard. The lizard, clearly appreciative of a captive audience, waited until Julian stopped adjusting his position before speaking.

“There was a time I was the greatest craftsman this side of the Western sea,” he stated, proud. “I could make you anything your heart wished. Gold, silver, metals of all sorts were shaped into beautiful things under my tools, as if I commanded their very form.”

He sighed, as if envisioning his creations in his mind’s eye. “I would adorn the most intricate jewelry with gems of all sizes and colors. Messengers would come from all four corners of the map, begging to place an order for their masters for just one of my works! I could have been a wealthy man, but no, I did it for the love of the craft. But a greedy man came to commission a ring. I followed his every specification, but when he came to pay, he was dissatisfied with what I made. The engravings were crooked, he said. The metal, dull. The gems, scratched.”

The lizard huffed. “Of course the ring was flawless, but I was nothing if not amiable to my customers. So I made a second ring, a third one. Each one he found fault with. I finally told him that I would do no more work for him until he paid me for my materials and time. He threw a fit, left, and hired a discredited wizard to curse me.”

“A shame,” Julian said, but with far less conviction than his previous sentiments.

“So now you know,” the lizard’s tongue flicked out, then in.

“And this is the truth?”

“Patience does have its rewards,” the lizard responded. Julian didn’t think that was much of an answer.

“Well…” he began. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Don’t feel you have to leave right away,” the lizard offered. “If you’d care to, we can discuss the history book you were reading before. It’s been a while since I last laid eyes on a book, but I can remember the last one I read fairly well. It was a rather controversial perspective on the Northern Border Wars. Quite engaging.”

The Northern Border Wars were, on any given day, not among Julian’s favorite historical events to talk about. On that particular day, however, he was downright tempted to stay and hear about this ‘controversial perspective’.

“I’d better not,” he offered a consolatory grimace. “I came early today because I have to go to the village today.”

Rather than face the lizard’s disapproving stare, Julian quickly stood and began his retreat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it with eager anticipation,” the lizard’s voice rang out behind Julian. “When I have use of ten nimble fingers again, I’ll craft the most wonderful jewelry for you as thanks. Riches beyond imagination. You’ll barely be able to walk, weighed down by so much gold around your neck and wrists.”

The woods didn’t have its usual friendliness as Julian made his way back to his cottage. The branches reached down with their spindly fingers, and the paths of hardened dirt, stone, and trampled grass were as unsteady as the thoughts in his head.

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Julian hadn’t lied. Lying and magic rarely went well together, and the consequences of mixing the two were only for the bravest—or most foolhardy—of hearts. He _was_ going to the village. Just not right away.

There was just something about the lizard’s stories that made his guts twist up and his chest hurt.

It wasn’t that deception made Julian ill, the way it did for princesses in folk tales and some goody-two-shoes back in his school days. No, he had a healthy tolerance for the white lies of life.

It was if, he considered to himself, he was hurt that he wasn’t trusted. He was already putting himself out there, offering to kiss a lizard when he was under _no_ obligation or expectation to press his lips against _any_ kind of reptile or amphibian. It felt rather unkind that the enchanted fellow wasn’t extending the same courtesy of telling the straightforward truth about why he had been cursed in the first place.

 _But probably not_ , he considered again, ultimately deciding on the other side of things. It was probably just the magic of it that was making him feel uncomfortable. The lizard was, after all, a _stranger_. It wasn’t like they were friends.

By the time afternoon rolled around, Julian had made up his mind to seek advice on his whole situation. He was going to talk to someone he _knew_ was a friend.

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The O’Brien household was a short walk away from his own. If one had asked Keiko under the promise of confidentiality, she might have even confessed that at times it was _too_ short of a walk. As it was, she was out, and besides, it wouldn’t have even occurred to Julian to ask her that question in the first place.

“Hello, Miles!”

“Hi there, Julian,” Miles responded, fiddling with lots of little gears and tools. “What brings you here?”

“I need your help,” Julian said. “It has to do with magic.”

“Help with magic? That’s rarely a good thing,” Miles huffed, fitting two widgets together.

“I met someone under an enchantment. They said that I can help break the curse, but they also have a remarkable tendency toward… obfuscation.”

“Don’t know why anyone would do that,” Miles shook his head. “Magic is a tricky business. The sooner the spell’s broken, the better, if you ask me. Do you want to help them?”

“I don’t know,” Julian admitted. “Normally, yes, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s something I should know that might change my mind. Why else would he be lying?”

“Who knows,” Miles shrugged, having little use for speculation. “Is it anyone I’d know?”

“I don’t know,” Julian said. “He’s a lizard. I’m fairly sure he lives in the woods. I always meet with him by the creek.”

“I know that lizard,” Miles said. “He likes to lay on the rocks by the river and soak up all the sun. He looks like he’s asleep and harmless, until a fly comes by. Then, quick as can be, he shoots out his tongue and gobbles it up. I think he’s dangerous.”

“Of course he’s dangerous,” Julian said. “He’s a lizard. It’s part of his nature to be dangerous to flies.”

“I suppose,” Miles said, though he didn’t sound like he agreed much at all.

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Not having gotten the clarification he sought, Julian sought out Jadzia. He eventually found her in the village—the same village he had told the lizard he was heading to—in the yard behind the tavern, maneuvering a small barrel of wine.

“Julian!” Jadzia called, seeing him approach. “Want a glass? I’m tapping this one for Worf’s birthday. It’s his vintage.”

One obscure benefit of having a faefolk reside in his village, Julian thought—not for the first time—was that Jadzia had gotten into winemaking a century prior. As one could expect from such a hobby, every local newborn since got a few dozen casks from their birth year’s harvest that Jadzia would distribute on birthdays she thought particularly auspicious. His own birthday prior had been particularly stone-fruity.

“Alas, not right now,” he sadly turned down her offer. “Do you have a moment?”

“Only a couple,” she admitted, “Worf doesn’t know I’m tapping this one for him and me. Well, for him, me, and the half-dozen folks hiding inside the tavern.”

“I’ll be quick, then,” Julian said. He certainly wasn’t inclined to be around a surprised Worf. “Do you know about the man cursed into a lizard in the woods?”

“Is that what it is?” Jadzia gave a sigh of dawning understanding. “I picked up on an enchanted presence a while back, but wasn’t sure what it was. You know how many spirit animals and charmed birds pass through the woods in a given month, not to mention prophetic ponds that form then dry up.”

“That sounds right,” Julian nodded. “I only met him a couple of days ago, but he could have been there longer.”

“What about the man-turned-lizard?” Jadzia got to the point. “Does he need a fae hair to turn back into a man?”

“No, nothing like that,” Julian shook his head. “I know how to turn him back. That is, if he told me the truth.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jadzia asked. It was, after all, a very good question.

“I don’t know!’ Julian’s tone finally began to belay his frustration. “You would think it would be straightforward. Easy, even! Learn what happened, kiss the lizard, turn him into a human, then be on our merry ways!”

“Kiss him, you say?”

Julian did not particularly like the mischievous smirk gracing Jadzia’s face.

“Is that not a normal way to break a curse?” he asked. It sounded legitimate to him, but then again, most of his knowledge of magic and curses was limited to childhood fairy tales. He’d never once touched the spell tomes in the small village library, even after he’d finished all the other sections of books.

“No, it is,” Jadzia shrugged, “it’s just old magic. Clear-cut. Usually when someone wants a curse to _really_ stick, they make it more complicated. Impossible ingredients, and all that.”

“So if it’s so forthright, I don’t know why he’s told me three different stories about why he got cursed in the first place!” Julian growled.

“Maybe’s it’s part of the curse,” Jadzia suggested. “In order to turn him back into a man you have to guess which story is true correctly, then kiss him.”

“Maybe,” Julian answered. “But it still doesn’t make sense. He said I just had to kiss him to break the spell. He really seems want to break the curse, so there’s no reason to keep any part of it secret.”

“Maybe you should ask Sisko,” Jadzia suggested. “He’s wise. He might know what to do.”

So Julian thanked Jadzia and went off to seek Sisko’s counsel. In any case, he thought he saw Worf’s approaching in the distance, and didn’t want the warrior to think he had anything to do with the surprise party inside the tavern.

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“What’s on your mind?”

Sisko had barely needed to look at Julian’s face to notice the young man was in some sort of turmoil when he walked into the village hall. Sure enough, Julian collapsed into a defeated heap in the chair across from Sisko’s desk.

“There’s a lizard… well, an enchanted lizard. Well, more like a man enchanted to be a lizard. Cursed, actually. And he asked me to help break the curse. I remember that part clearly, because I was debating whether or not to just flat out offer if there was anything I could do, when he beat me to it. So he asked me to help him break the curse, which turn out requires a kiss. And it’s not like I have a problem with kissing—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything—so it’s not a big deal for me—”

“Julian!” Sisko held up his hand for him to stop talking, much to Julian’s relief. 

The hand brought silence, almost like magic.

That is, _almost_ _like_ , but most assuredly _not,_ magic. Almost everyone can recall a time where they found themselves blathering on, but completely lacked the power to stop to catch their train of thought. Sisko was much appreciated for his ability to stop such times before the speakers’ embarrassment rose too high.

“Give yourself a moment. Think. Simplify. _Then_ speak,” Sisko instructed. Julian did just that.

“This man under a curse to be a lizard…I know I could help him break the enchantment by kissing him, but the whole situation leaves me confused,” Julian admitted. “He’s given me three different stories about how he became cursed. What’s worse is that he doesn’t seem bothered whenever I point out his lie, he just offers another story, then asks if I’ll help again. I can’t help but wonder if he did something bad. If I help him, am I responsible for what happens if he goes off and does something worse?”

He sighed, buried his head into his hands. “I talked to Miles, then Jadzia, and now you. I just need to know. Should I do it?”

Sisko shook his head. “It’s not that easy, Julian. I can’t give you any absolution.”

“But I just need advice-”

“You can’t just do what Miles, Jadzia, or I tell you to do. You have to make your own choices. You can choose to talk to him and ask him one more time to tell you the truth. And if he tells you what happened, you’ll have to choose if you will believe him or not.”

“What if I don’t think he’s telling the truth?” Julian asked.

“Then you have to choose whether knowing the truth is a condition for you to turn him back into a man or not,” Sisko answered. “But you have to listen to yourself. No one can make that decision for you.”

Julian thanked Sisko for his help, and was about to go, when a question crossed his mind.

“But why does he lie at all?” Julian asked aloud, partly to Sisko, partly to himself.

“Sometimes it’s easier to tell lies than to tell the truth,” Sisko said. And that, Julian realized, was something that made a lot more sense than it should.

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“I was wondering if you’d be coming back today,” the lizard hissed as a greeting as it stretched out before Julian on the stone. It had moved since that morning, up from the flat, gray stone to a rounder, blue-hued one a little further down the clearing.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I thought, ‘why wait until tomorrow’?” Julian said. “Are you ready to break the curse?”

The frankness appeared to take the lizard by surprise. “Is _that_ what you’re here for?” he asked. “After our previous conversation, I thought you’d continue your pattern and show up tomorrow.”

He hopped down from the rock, getting closer to Julian’s waist. “How _do_ you wish to do this?”

“Not so fast,” Julian held up his finger. “I have one question I need answered first.”

“Naturally.”

“So, which story is it? Are you a cursed prince? A dutiful son? A master craftsman? I need you to tell me the truth.”

“My dear, they’re all true,” the lizard flicked its tail definitively.

Julian frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the best answer I’m capable of giving,” the lizard said, his tail flicking agitatedly. “Now will you assist me, or not?”

“I need to know.”

“Why?” the lizard’s eyes narrowed. “Do you worry that I’m…dangerous?”

“No,” Julian shot back, a defensive reflex. Only—he realized as soon as he said it—his answer didn’t seem to have come out so quickly because it was defensive after all.

Only _truth_ came out that quickly.

“No,” he repeated, less harsh this time. “It’s because I deserve to know.”

“Deserve?” the lizard let out several quick hisses that Julian quickly realized were laughter. “Live long enough, and you’ll learn that being someone who _deserves_ something isn’t a good thing. What people end up _deserving_ is usually nasty and brutal.”

“It sounds like you know a thing or two about deserving,” Julian narrowed his eyes. “Is that a lesson you learned from getting turned into a lizard?”

The lizard hunched down, but for once, didn’t speak.

“I’m not attacking you,” Julian spoke calmly, “I need you to understand that. I want to help you. It’s just…”

“It’s just…” the lizard prompted back. “It’s just what? ‘I’ll help you there, dear fellow, but only if you roll over and show your belly’?”

All at once, Bashir understood what Sisko had said. His choice was obvious.

“You’re asking me to do something. And I have the right to put my concerns out there. It’s a reasonably straightforward request,” Julian said. “I want you to know what happened. Now you can tell me or not,” he pursed his lips. “I’ll help you either way. I want to make that clear. But I need you to say you’ll tell me, or not. No more lies.”

The lizard shifted from side to side. He blinked, first slowly, then rapidly. He flicked out his tongue.

Then he spoke.

“I never trust anyone. It’s how I’ve made it this far.”

“It’s how you got yourself cursed, more like,” Julian scoffed, but lowered himself to the lizard’s height.

“I get it. It’s hard to be vulnerable, and you’re already exposed. Putting the curse-breaking into my hands, and all. I respect that. And I’m hoping, just hoping, that you’ll take an extra step.”

The lizard’s eyes met his eyes. Julian asked his question for the final time.

“Who are you?”

A beat.

“…no one.”

The lizard’s voice was atypically quiet, so soft Julian nearly missed it.

“I’m not special,” he continued. “Just a normal man. Not a prince, not a beloved son, not a craftsman or artist. Just an ordinary, everyday man who displeased an old enchanter and was put under a curse.”

For no reason other than a conviction rooted deep in his soul, Julian believed him.

“Then why lie?”

The lizard’s eyes averted. “Who wants to save a plain, simple man?”

“I do,” Julian answered. “The world is made up of plain, simple people. And I’ve found many of them to be quite special.”

The lizard looked back to him, and Julian found that somewhere during his words, a grin had spread across his own face. He slightly suspected magic.

Magic was sneaky that way.

“Is there any way you’d like to do this, then?” Julian asked, noticing with surprise that his face was far closer to the lizard than it had been a moment prior. “Do you want to get in my hands and have me lift you up?”

“I think not,” the lizard said, in a tone that was rather difficult for Julian to place. It seemed to fall somewhere between surprise, joy, and disbelief. “I partook in a good plate of roast lamb in yamok sauce far more often than I should have back when I was a human. I fear you’d drop me if I changed back too quickly.”

“On the rock, then?” Julian quickly said, an offer that was met with rapid nodding. Learning forward, he rested his weight on his toes, propped his hands on the side of the rock. “Yes, okay then.”

Neither moved.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” the lizard’s voice communicated a not-insignificant degree of amusement. “I’d reach forward to you, but I’m not partial to the idea of falling off the rock mid-transformation.”

“Of course,” Julian blinked quickly. Then, before he could lose his nerve, swooped forward and resolutely pressed his lips against the lizard.

If you asked Julian, he’d clarify that he’d aimed for the top of the head, roughly. It was hard to know where to kiss the lizard, given that the space between a lizard’s mouth, snout, and top of head was really quite negligible.

But a kiss was a kiss, and his lips indeed met cool scale. Belatedly, Julian wondered how long he should keep his lips in contact with the lizard, when the texture under his skin began to shift. It rippled slowly, then all at once, a flurry of growth and smoothening that threw Julian back on his rear.

Before him, scales shifted, a light glowed, and the shape of something vaguely humanoid expanded out from that innocuous spot on the rock. Then, as soon as it had begun, it ended.

A man stood before Julian. He was an average height, average weight. He had normal black hair which was a normal length. His clothes were just those that would have belonged to any other person in the village. His hands—both average sized—were gripped tight together in front of him. He was older than Julian, but in an average way. Not elderly, nor like a twin that insisted they were older, if only because they reveled in their sibling’s frustration.

His skin was rather grayish, somewhat reminiscent of scales, the way what was common for the people whose ancestors had migrated from the Eastern desert. A lizard had been apropos.

Julian thought he’d rather like to kiss the man again. Just to get it right. On the lips, this time.

“I hope I haven’t shattered your illusions, then,” the lizard—no, _man—_ gave a grimace that might have been meant to be a smile.

It seemed that—for the time being, at least—much of the nonchalance he’d had as a magical lizard was shaky now that he was human.

“None at all,” Julian said, wide-eyed. Eventually he had the sense to stand so he wasn’t looking up at the man he had rescued.

That must have been another side effect of magic rarely talked about, he thought. Loss of common sense. 

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do now,” the man sighed. “I’d been a lizard so long, I fear I’ve lost many of my skills. I used to be finest dressmaker in my town. Now, I’m not even sure if I can hold scissors properly. My people moved on to other lands ages ago.” He paused. “After so many meals of flies I’m not even sure I remember what foods go into a normal meal.”

“You’ll stay with me, of course.” Julian smiled, as if this was the most obvious answer to the easiest problem in the world. For him, it was.

“That’s too kind,” the lizard— _man_ —smiled back. “First turning me back to normal, then offering me a home. I don’t know how I can make it up to you, my dear.”

“Well, if you’re so determined to, you could tell me stories.” Julian offered. “You’re quite good at telling them. Stories, I mean. I enjoyed listening to your three tales how you got turned into a lizard, even if they weren’t true.”

Julian found it easy to be polite to the man. One should, after all, be polite when dealing with something that might be magic.

The two were walking along to Julian’s home, when something occurred to him.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve realized I don’t know your name,” Julian said to the man. “All this time I’ve been calling you ‘lizard.’

“That’s fitting. I _did_ spend a long time as one.” The man amiably agreed. “My name is Garak.”

“It’s a nice name,” Julian responded. Privately, he thought Garak was a _very_ nice name, but he didn’t say that out loud. It didn’t seem like Garak was very comfortable with accepting compliments just yet. “I can’t wait to introduce you to my friends.”

“Oh, no. I’m sure they won’t want to meet me. Maybe I was interesting when I was a lizard, but not anymore. I’m just me. I’m not remarkable.”

“Of course you are,” Julian smiled. “You’re plain and simple, and very special to me.”

Yes, it was always best to be polite—and honest—when dealing with something that might be magic. And though Garak wasn’t a lizard anymore, the air still filled with something bright and vibrant whenever Julian locked eyes with him.

Julian wasn’t sure, but he suspected that was still some kind of magic.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed it! Comments appreciated! 
> 
> On a side note, for my next story, I’m trying to find this one tumblr post from a while back to reference and credit. It’s a bunch of sequential retellings of The Scorpion and The Frog fable, but each time it’s retold, it changes slightly to nuance different aspects and challenges of change (e.g. the scorpion confesses they’re trying to change their nature so the frog says they’ll take them across the river once they’re further along in their journey, they end up in a stalemate on the same side of the river. etc). It’s really quite beautiful and nuanced, and it’s killing me that I can’t find it. If anyone can point me in the right direction I’d be eternally grateful!


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